


Remorse

by Niullum



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Feels, Eventual Happy Ending, Founding of Konoha, Guilt, Illnesses, M/M, Not beta read we die like Zetsu, Pining, Redemption, Second Chances, Uchiha Madara Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-12-07 21:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niullum/pseuds/Niullum
Summary: Madara dies with remorse and with his friend by his side.He never imagined waking up and back in Konoha.





	1. Chapter 1

Hashirama, the ever-loving fool, holds his hands as his vision gets blurrier and breathing gets harder, whispering something about friendship and dreams. How he will soon join him. Thing is, that even with the decades of war and betrayal, Madara has always considered Hashirama his friend.

Perhaps his only friend.

It is a fitting way to die, he thinks, by making amends and promising friendship. It doesn’t matter thinking how all his dreams of final peace, all his hard work, and meticulous planning had been a farce from the start. How he’d been manipulated and hardwire by a God’s minion. How this is a product of his ineptitude and failing of understanding how other humans work.

Not that it will make a difference now (despite his heart’s painful clenching at the reminder of all the things he did), thinking about his past life choices and what-ifs. But this…this is something Madara can cherish.

Being forgiven and blessed to part away.

It makes it easier, in a way. There is a certain sense of calmness and tranquility that Madara hasn’t felt since the day he was tended by his mother. Maybe this is what real death feels like, or maybe he’s finally making peace with himself.

Hashirama is saying something, but at this point, Madara can’t comprehend it. He closes his eyes, thinking how vastly different this death is from the others. Like when was impaled by Hashirama, where he blacked out with a deep sense of betrayal and anger. Or the time he disconnected himself from the statue, with millions of thoughts and expectations in Obito.

Now?

All he feels is wanting to _rest._

He dies.

He dies with remorse and with his friend by his side.

* * *

He wakes up in a futon from the house built by Hashirama himself.

He _screams._

Not two seconds later, his front door explodes with Hikaku and a dozen men ready to charge and attack who anyone who dared to hurt his clan head. Only to find a naked disoriented Madara crawling in his living room.

This will take a while.

* * *

Madara stares at the offending breakfast as if by glaring it more will magically manifest his rinnegan. (now _that _would be easier, uh?). The breakfast itself isn’t even bad, per se; miso soup with rice, fish, a cup of green tea and a monstrosity of something_ filled with green and who knows what else._ There’s even an indecipherable small card in what appears to be “get well soon” attached to it.

It’s an ordinary breakfast for an ordinary man Madara is, at this point, far from ordinary. He…doesn't know what to think of this. His mind has yet to settle down from the fact that he’s alive, and he still hasn’t fully grasped the coordination and balance in this one-hundred-year younger body.

A body that doesn’t have the enhanced healing regenerations Mokuton gave or the vast body modifications he underwent by Zetsu. A body that’s so weak_, making_ him lose his balance, stumble and fall far more often than he would want to.

Which is why he’s glaring at his breakfast, in the first place. When Hikaku realized he couldn’t walk three steps straight without falling, he’d frantically yelled for a medic. The medic that came to visit quickly ordered bedrest and a specialist appointment. 

And from there…things quickly got out of hands, and now there he is trapped in his own house, while the rest of the compound is watching him; their chakra buzzing around all over the compound filled with anxiety and worry.

He doesn’t know what to think of this.

He doesn’t know how to even approach the subject of time travel either, since the mere thought of it, still boggles him. Like, how? And most importantly, why? Why had he been chosen to wake up in the past? Had it been a Jutsu?

The six sage?

A second chance?

He snorts at the thought of it._ Second chance. _An opportunity to try something again after failing one time, but the thing is, Madara is realistic enough to know he is the least capable person in doing this right.

Unlike, Hashirama who’s charismatic personality was what made him be elected Hokage, Madara doesn’t have the patience to explain and reason, can't bargain a deal, or even the capacity to listen to idiocies.

His lack of being able to communicate his thoughts while not forcing the other into submission is what made his whole clan wary of him in the first place (and what started his downfall). He’s got a tarnished reputation, and a majority of Konoha thinks that he’s feral and that in any giving seconds, he will snap and fall apart.

Then, there is also Zetsu, who Madara knows is lurking for a victim. This time it won’t be him (he won’t make the same mistake twice, thank you), what can ensure that it won’t be another clan member? What if Zetsu goes for a Hyuuga, or an Uzumaki instead?

Those thoughts keep him late at night, terror slowly creeping into his body and leaving him paralyzed with endless possibilities.

_What can he do?_

* * *

A week passes with so much nausea, headaches, and vertigo that Madara is starting to think that maybe there is something wrong with his body. Is it because he doesn’t have Hashirama’s cells? Or is it because his soul isn’t compatible with this younger body?

Hikaku alongside others is concerned about his wellbeing. They’re worried about him, and Madara doesn’t know how to feel about it. He doesn’t remember if there had ever been a time where his clan members had been worried for him.

But apparently, sickness can soften even old grudges. Every time he wakes up, there’s someone by his side. There’s food in his kitchen that he doesn’t remember getting, and someone organized his stack of books from the library.

He tries to flee the house, numerous times, but his body can’t walk well, and less than what you can say “Fuck Kumo”, he’s back at his house. Mito placed a seal inside his clothes to ensure they know where he is.

He slowly starts to get crazy.

His bare living room begins to get decorated without his permission. It starts with a plant, a small living strategically placed beside his windows. Then a rug, a vase, a comfy sofa, and many children drawings depicting him against the wall and before Madara can protest his whole living gets a massive decoration.

Not that the person decorated doesn’t have a good taste. In one he can even swear he saw Tobirama doing rounds in his living room, but it’s just a fleeting moment before his chakra vanishes and he soon passes out.

What can he do?

He thinks, in his solitude, what he should do next. Whether he should interfere with the future and twist reality to his advantages. He knows, judging by the state of the primitive new-founded Konoha, it’s been a few months since both clans joined, therefore there still a chance of redemption.

But what of redemption, exactly?

That itself is the biggest question Madara has. While another man would have taken this opportunity to make this world a better place, Madara is realistic enough that even with his best intentions of changing, his proposition will fall to deaf ears.

He sighs, eyeing the flowers that appeared this morning with a small “get well soon” letter. There’s still a somewhat residual chakra left from the man who once upon a time, had been Madara’s world. But now?

Now all he tastes is _guilt._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone wanted to see the outside POV and well...here I am to deliver.

The whole celebration feels bittersweet to Hashirama as if he’d just eaten an entire bag of citrus peels. He rearranges his clothes, careful to not step on his robe or accidentally drop his hat. Even to this night the title of Hokage feels conflicting to him, since not too long ago Madara had declared interested in wanting to be Hokage, stating it was his dream. 

And now, having his best friend’s dream in his hands? 

It feels _wrong_. 

Especially since he hasn’t seen Madara for the past week. When the results of the election happened, Hashirama had wanted to speak with him first but Madara simply disappeared. To the point where even his second in charge, Uchiha Hikaku, didn’t have a clue on his head clan current whereabouts. 

“Another cup, Hokage-Sama?” A waitress asks him, lifting the jug. Hashirama nods already defeated to get drunk.

The reason why they were currently celebrating Hashirama’s victory wasn’t even his idea in the first place. He didn’t want to come out as insensitive to Madara's longtime dream or giving the impression that he was rubbing the Hokage title to his friend’s face. But all of that didn’t stop Tobirama from throwing a party once he declared they needed to celebrate before winter came and now there, he is, _mopping_.

But he couldn’t vocally express his discontent without hurting Tobirama or Mito’s feelings since he knows how much effort they both put into this. With lots of people from Konoha cheering and chanting his name, Tobirama giving a speech and the festival afterward with lots of food and sake that ended up getting half of the village drunk.

Hashirama’s on his way to becoming one too. 

Because this night has been full of thoughts plaguing his mind at the implication and responsibility on what the Hokage title holds. It doesn’t help to glance now and then the only vacant seat next to Tobirama where one Uchiha was supposed to sit.

And it’s only when he’s half-drunk that he concludes that his best friend will not come. He sulks while another cup of sake is refilled and stares at the cup as if by glaring more his missing friend will reappear. The absence of Madara hurts.

He turns around and sees his surroundings. Tobirama is a few meters away from him, speaking to the Hyuuga clan about well-fare trades that Hashirama doesn’t want to get into it. Mito, on the other hand, is deeply invested in talking to Izunuka’s matriarch about diplomatic matters that will concern the daimyo. 

He slumps more into his chair, thinking about the young kid who once fell in the water and who couldn’t pee while someone watching him, feeling more alone than ever.

In the end, he’s one of the last ones to leave his party, when the celebration night is over and Hashirama is walking down to his home. Mito had long left, stating that as a pregnant woman she needed more sleep. And if there’s one thing Hashirama has learned during his two years of marriage with Mito, is that her word is the final say unless he wants to face her seals.

Trust him; _nobody_ wants to face her seals.

The journey from the Hokage tower to his home in the Senju district isn’t that far, so he takes pleasure in watching the stars in the sky. His clothes feel heavy as he forces his body to move, still under the effects of alcohol to notice the dark looking shadow leaning against the wall.

“Congratulations Senju,” are the two words the stranger says while being covered in darkness. Hashirama, on the other hand, beams as soon as he can distinguish his friend’s voice from the dark corner in which he’s hiding.

Soon all the lethargy is replaced by energetic happiness that Hashirama can’t seem to control. He jogs to him and starts talking…except that no matter how many jokes he cracks, Madara remains silence, with an indescribable expression on his face.

Hashirama stalls when another of his question remains unanswered and fidgets. Tobirama had warned him how Madara reacted seeing the three ballots against his thirty-five and how it would be wise if Madara wasn’t invited, but he invited him anyways.

And now he’s seeing with his very own eyes how much Madara’s affected by it, and it’s making his heart hurt clench because he’d never... He’d never thought his friend would be so angry over the mantle.

Hashirama doesn’t know what to do.

“Madara” He starts placing his hands on his friend’s shoulder in a reassuring manner, but his brains freeze when Madara avoids it by moving to the side. He blinks, trying to remember if there had ever been a time in which Madara had done this before, but his mind comes up blank.

“Madara,” He repeats this time with more need since he doesn’t know how to fix this. He’d been trained to kill people on sight, force his way into the ranks of his father Butsuma’s forces, but…not this. “Madara give it more time, I’m sure the next re-election people will warm up to you, _please-”_

“More time for what Hashirama?” Is the sullen reply from his friend who greets him with his red eyes, covered in an aura so dark that makes Hashirama’s chakra unconsciously start buzzing. He’s not as good as Tobirama as sense, but the chakra surrounding his friend is vastly different than the cracking-fire aura he’s accustomed to.

He wants to get near him, to reassure him that people do appreciate him, that he loves him as a brother, but he knows that if he tries to get closer Madara will shove him away. 

“Mada-“

“I’m happy for you Hashirama,” It comes as a whisper, as Madara takes a step back and another until there’s a distance Hashirama wants to shorten. His hands itch to grab him and let him know that just because he wasn’t elected Hokage means that all his efforts have gone to waste. 

Hokage or not, Madara is still one of the founders of Konohagakure. But that doesn’t stop his friend from walking away only to stop when he’s far enough that Hashirama must crane his head to hear better.

“From now on,” he states without an ounce of what used to be the exasperated tone Hashirama is so fond of. It doesn’t sit well with him. “I’ll focus more on my clan, which I hope you can understand,”

“Sure,” He responds unsure. His friends give him a half-formed smile showing too many teeth for his taste, before slowly turning away. But just when he’s about to chase him, he adds. “And _don’t _come looking for me Hashirama”

And for the final effect, he adds.

“I want to be _left_ alone, Senju.”

* * *

The night’s cold. 

Maybe too cold for Hashirama's taste. 

Hashirama closes the window with care, so he won’t awaken the sleeping lump who’s snoring like there’s no tomorrow in the living room. His steps are slow as Hashirama silently sits next to Madara, and stares at his unconscious form. 

The whole room is silent, apart from the soft sounds from Madara. He smiles when the snores reach his ear. He checks his temperature with one hand and quickly changes the cold cloth over his forehead, ignoring the small moan that comes from his friend’s mouth in protest.

The moan quickly turns into soft snores once his friend falls back asleep. His back hits the wall in relief, and Hashirama closes his eyes, trying to think how much time he has left before he must come back to work. He groans, already picturing it.

There are piles of paperwork, begging to be filled. Normally Hashirama is responsible for completing his duties and all the responsibilities that come from being a kage, but everything halted when Madara had stopped coming into their office. 

Only to be informed the next day, that Madara had fallen sick. 

At first, they hadn’t given too much thought of it, thinking it was a common cold or perhaps chakra exhaustion since it was one of the common illness shinobi suffered due to their profession. But the next days turned the worry into anxiety when none of the treatment available in the hospital worked and his friend’s condition progressively got worse. 

Every test performed had come out negative, and it seemed as with each passing day Madara was getting weaker. At least he’s not alone in this: Tobirama is holed up in his lab, searching for a cure. Mito had written to his family, urgently inquiring for an Uzumaki medic that could come to Konoha, but the journey from Uzu to Konoha is long and Hashirama doesn’t know if…

He shakes his head and dispels those thoughts away. It won’t help him thinking how long his friend has left, but it’s hard because it’s _Madara. _The same Madara whose powers were known to bring a whole army to the ground. The same Madara who had threatened Ishikawa to leave the village alone. The same Madara who had exterminated Kayuya’s who were ready to attack their borders. 

It’s alarming having to see how one of the strongest Konoha’s shinobi has weakened in a matter of days. How his body has not responded favorably to the medication, and now all they can do is wait and pray that his condition doesn’t worsen. 

His fist tightens at the memory of six months ago when his friend commented he was going to start focusing more on his clan instead of the village due to personal reasons. 

Had that been a sign that something was wrong? Was the personal reason related to his health? That his body was failing and Madara was warning him? And if so, why hadn’t Madara said something before? They were friends, and friends were supposed to tell-

Something like guilt creeps into his core and Hashirama must fight against himself to not let his emotions slip or else he’ll have to explain to Hikaku why his friend’s house suddenly has a forty-five meters tall tree in his background.

“Why didn’t you tell you were hurting?” He whispers because why? Why hadn’t Madara told him? Why had Madara hidden this? The medic in charge had told him this illness couldn’t have started from one day to another. The thought of his best friend Madara suffering in silence all this time while he was more focused on the village, makes it feel as if someone had trusted a kunai into his chest. 

And it would explain so much; his friend sudden behavior, the absence, and the growing distance between their friendship. Why Madara spent so much time outside Konoha in his self-imposed missions or why his friend stopped training with him. 

“You should go to sleep brother,” A sudden voice spoke to his left and it’s only the white hair that stops him from stabbing his brother in the neck. Tobirama blinks, not even moved from Hashirama’s almost parricide.

“The lack of sleep is affecting you brother,”

“Tobirama,” He says holding his trembling hands clutching the kunai back to his side. His head is still spinning, one thought to jump to the next one, but he knows it won’t solve the puzzle that’s his friend sudden sickness. “Warn next time, will you?”

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes as he sits beside him while examining Madara’s condition. After a while, he responds. “But you didn’t come home the other night and Mito is worried about you,”

Frustration forms into his gut at the thought of her pregnant wife spending the nights alone and his incompetence of a husband, while he’s in his friends’ home. He’d been so worried over Madara, he’d accidentally forgotten about his wife. He sighs, rubbing his temple and thinking how he should proceed next.

“Go home,” Tobirama orders not unkindly, nudging his shoulder just when Hashirama rested his head against his brother’s shoulder. He frowns when Tobirama shoves him away, with the whole objective to kick him out of the house. When he’s just about to protest, his body betrays him and lets out a yawn he’d been holding up for a while.

Tobirama simply gives him a smile, one hand on the door. “I’ll take over from here. Go get some rest Aniki, or else Mito will have our hides,”

He frowns.

“But the- “He starts protesting but before he can even finish a sentence the door is slammed to his face. 

* * *

It's only when they are both alone that Tobirama’s sharpen his gaze to Madara. He sits next to him, folds both of his hands in front of him and says.

“Uchiha,” It’s not the first time since he addresses Madara by his last name, but for a strange reason, it feels wrong saying it and not hearing the detested “Senju” back. The exhaustion from the late-night working in his lab, trying to find out what is wrong with the Uchiha hits him at once.

It feels as if a year has passed when it has been only two weeks.

“I won’t repeat ever this again for my brother’s sake but, “He says again, this time with more perseverance, softening his red eyes. “you have to get better Uchiha.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, what kind of relationship would you like Madara to have? Hashi/Mada/Mito? Hashi/Mada? Tobi/Mada? Happiness/Mada?  
If you have another pairing in mind, please let me know! I would love to hear your opinions!!!  
And also thanks to everybody who commented and gave kudos!!! 💖 thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there!  
I'm not dead!

Tobirama storms the next day into the rudimentary Hospital Konoha has, with one thing in mind and its related to one Uchiha who has been the hot topic of many of his men’s ranks. He can sense the whole village buzzing with anxiety once the news broke, and when the speculation hits its course until Tobirama had to order his men to placate their exaggerating and disproportionate rumors. 

He keeps walking (well marching is the correct word anyways) until he ends up on the second floor, and glances at the small office at the end of the hallway. All while hearing the nervous comments from the nurses and a few medic-nin running up to meet him, probably to inquire him what made him visit the Hospital. But that doesn’t matter, at all.

He has a job to do.

The hallway has as much personality as the rest of the Hospital; its crammed with patients on trolleys, some tended by strained relatives and some alone. They lie on their back, with their eyes towards the fluorescent tubes that flickers.

Because even while they built the village to avoid death, it doesn’t mean that they don’t get hurt. There are bandits and nuke-nins organized to steal and decimate village and while Konoha is strong, it’s still struggling to stand after a few months after its founding. 

Not to mention that in the last three months, there has been a rise in accidents with every ninja squad they have sent. Making it entirely possible that they’re being target by a neighbor’s village. He glances at the groaning man in his late twenties and the IV in his arms, probably to drug him so he doesn’t feel pain, before walking to his next destination.

In his hands is a thick green folder, with sensible information he wants to discuss with Madara’s doctor. Normally he wouldn’t bother at this early hour, but time is ticking and he doesn’t have much time to spare before Hashirama realizes his absence and comes to retrieve him himself.

A thing that he cannot risk before he confirms his suspicions. 

He knocks twice and waits for it to answer, before greeting the woman who’s sitting at her desk. A woman in her in his late forties and who has many scars on her arms and face, not hiding her Kunoichi past. _ A Nara,_ his mind supplies going back to the file Hashirama gave him, once Madara was first referred to and validating it when he sees the Nara logo stitched on the front.

“Hello Tobirama-san,” She said, wrinkling her eyes. “While it’s always a pleasure talking with you, I wonder what has prompted you to come here,”

“It’s about a friend of mine who was attended by you,” _Lies_ but the medic doesn’t need to know about that. He doesn’t hate the Uchiha entirely but has more of a deep distaste for him. A feeling that ever since they founded Konoha, Tobirama has vowed to keep it at bay. 

Not that it made a difference in the first months. As much as Hashirama had always said they were too alike, Tobirama has a different opinion on the matter. It was one of the many reasons why Tobirama had wanted his brother to be elected Hokage. Either it was a bill proposal, adjustment to the tax ratio, or even the public funding for the Hospital, Madara was always contradicting him.

Making him lose his composure more than once.

But if there’s one thing Tobirama can acknowledge from the Uchiha’s existence is that he plays a major role inside the village. His absence is affecting everyone, and they need to solve it before Konoha’s enemies realize that he’s ill. 

And targets them.

Now, in the few days, Tobirama's been investigating there are a lot of options regarding Uchiha Madara’s condition. Ranging from autoimmune disease to a chronic illness he’s been hiding from them. The conclusion he reached is the same one as his brother, that one can’t get this ill from one day to the other. Making it entirely plausible that the strange behavior Uchiha has been displaying over the past couple of months could be related to this condition.

“While I value your honesty and the desire for your friend’s recovery, I do respect my patient confidentiality,” The Nara stated with a smile. Tobirama sat, and look her in the eye, thinking about a change of strategy that could help him. 

“I want to discuss his condition,” He started placing the folder with all the pertinent information he’d gathered in the past couple of days on the desk, hoping that would be enough. “Because I found some evidence that could help him in his recovery,”

The medic-nin narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. A distinct behavior whenever Nara was interested. 

“Well Tobirama-san,” She said and gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m all ears,”

* * *

Tobirama took a sip of the Matcha tea the medic had ordered one of her apprentices to fetch, savoring the taste before speaking, while not breaking eye contact with her. 

She was a Nara, after all.

“The reports you sent to my brother said about a blockage in one-third of his chakra coils in his lower member, and a few around his head,” He said while pushing the reports into her hands. “Could you mind explaining?”

“Of course,” The Nara said with a bow, “On the first day I had to attend him, it was discovered that the impair mobility came from two sources, one-” She raised a finger and pointed to the Chakra Pathway System’s map she placed there.

“From his stabilizer Muscles, sure. But that’s not the main problem. It’s most importantly,” She pointed near the ear. “_ Here,” _

“The vestibular system?” He voiced out, eyebrows raised. It made sense that Madara would have the system involving the sense of balance and spatial orientation affected. But how_, exactly? _ That was a question Tobirama was dying to know. 

“Does he have some sort of damage there?”

“The structure is fine, but it’s the chakra coil that’s placed next to the vestibular nerve and the one that’s around the semicircular ducts that are giving us the trouble.” She paused for a breath and eyed him with narrowed eyes. ”Instead of producing chakra, they’re doing the opposite”

“They’re draining him,” He said, finally realizing what he had overlooked. “His chakra coils located there, are draining all the cellular’s structure inside the vestibular system, making it entirely pausable that the’s lack of coordination comes from damage inside his ear”

“Exactly,” She said. Probably relieved to have the chance to argue with someone who could understand her. “Now when I first saw the results I thought that the chakra drainage came from a poison, a high chakra demanding technique or even a side effect for overuse of his Sharingan. But then I remember that while the vestibular system can sense angular and linear acceleration, the way that our brain can guess the relative velocity comes from the-”

“Eyes,” He finished, surprised. That would explain the use off the Sharingan’s advantage in battle. “It’s thank to our eyes that we can guess the velocity since we don’t have a system or an organ that can sense it”

“It’s a theory that I have. That maybe Uchiha Madara’s eyes did something to his brain for his Chakra Pathway System to start malfunctioning. But that’s when I came to check his eyes and I noticed something else, Tobirama-san” 

She finished taking out one of the scans and showing it, and that’s when all the color drained out of his face. Because in both orbits there were two massive black spots surrounding Madara’s eyes.

_ What have you gotten into Uchiha, to end up like this?_

He raised his eyes and locked his with the medics who then added.

“There’s something in both of Uchiha Madara’s eyes that’s majorly draining his chakra reserves and altering his other Chakra coils” He pursed his lips and his jaw tightened. “Either it’s a tumor, a secret technique of the Sharingan, or something else. But it’s what I think, prompted this whole ordeal,”

_ Shit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be mostly Madara centric, so cross your fingers fam and wish me good luck because whenever I have to write Madara I tent to lose focus really fast (I blame his looks, god he's so hot). 
> 
> Thanks for all the support so far and all the wonderful comments on the previous chapter, you guys rock! If you liked this story so far please don't hesitate to give a kudo or a comment, they keep me motivated and going~! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful week!
> 
> P.D I wrote this on my phone, so please forgive me for the typos uwu

**Author's Note:**

> pls let me know what you think. I'll love to hear your thoughts or theories on what could be making Madara ill or who decided to redecorate Madara's living room 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀


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